Fools With Starry Eyes
by Pleading Eyes
Summary: She simply has no time for fools with starry eyes! A series of brief moments in the perfectly imperfect life of Franziska von Karma, and how the King of Fools, Larry Butz himself, changed everything.
1. Forms

**Fools With Starry Eyes**

**Inspiration: **The Ace Attorney games are still amazing. Franziska is such an interesting character, but she was given so little development compared to the other prosecutors in the PW arc. I love trying to get into her head. She's so restrained on the outside, it must be waiting to burst in there. And unlike Edgeworth who practically killed himself trying to change for the better all at once, Franzy is taking it slow, one step at a time. Healtheir, I suppose, if she can learn to not be so stubborn and actually CHANGE.

**Disclaimer: **Still not mine. But maybe someday I'll own the rights, and then gummy candy will rain from the sky, and chocolate will fill our lakes. And then everyone will be hospitalized for dehydration.

**Clarification: **Oh Franzy, you loveable, neurotic SCAMP! What? I have nothing else to say!

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**Forms**

There were many things which irked Franziska von Karma. In fact, most things forced her into a downright foul mood. She could hardly be blamed; the world was so flawed, and a von Karma simply did not tolerate anything less than absolute perfection.

Few of these things pertained to her career. Franziska rather enjoyed the clash of the courtroom battles, the rush of absolute control, the satisfaction of grinding her opponent mercilessly under her heel. But then again, that was all in court. During trials, where the drama and flair, the crack of her whip, and her legal near-slavery of the police force was all permitted, Franziska had nothing to displease her.

In-office paperwork was another story entirely. It all was so pointless! Filling in the same trivial, no longer urgent facts everyone already knew. What did it matter? She'd gotten her guilty verdict. What else was there to worry about? As far as she was concerned, it was a terribly disrespectful waste of her time and effort. It reminded her of an all too memorable period in the past, one she would rather not think about. Those endless nights, deprived of sleep, forced to read textbook upon textbook, while her peers played in the streets or chased after ice cream vendors. She used to wonder if they ever saw her peeking at them from her bedroom window. Did they even know she was there? Not that she had much time to wonder. If her father caught her lost in daydreams, there would be a lashing. And she still had so many forms left to complete…

Franziska shook her head, sifting away the memories of a life long passed, of a man now deceased. This was a different sort of form entirely, and she could not afford to delay any longer. If that foolish fool little brother of hers was going to be giving lectures at Ivy University, then Franziska von Karma would do no less! Miles Edgeworth may have been invited by the university's law department, but Franziska knew that as soon as they received her application, they would realize the error of their ways. Why ask such a subpar romanticist to lecture on something as purely logical as law, regardless of his impressive record? Especially when they could have perfection incarnate's living legacy instead.

Or so Franziska had thought when she had called the university. She had never expected the reply.

"_Ms von Karma, while Ivy University would be honored to have you lecture for our law department, we regret to inform you that your application simply cannot be accepted at this time. Long standing Ivy U tradition require all guest speakers to have contributed to the community through some form of non-profit program, organization, or documented activity. We strive to encourage a sense of responsibility and altruism in our students. We hope to find other ways to work with you in the future!"_

She had thrown the phone across the room in her rage. Even now, the indent in the plaster mocked her. Franziska had not so much as bothered to pick up the phone. She simply would not—could not allow it! No one snubbed a von Karma. They wanted non-profit contributions to the community? They would get it! And how! She would contribute more perfectly and more quickly than anyone in history!

All she had to do was finish filling out this application, detailing her contribution to the community.

Oh yes, and she would probably have to actually contribute something as well.

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Please review! There's a lot to come.


	2. Objection

**Objection**

It figured he'd want to meet at a tea house, of all places. That fool Miles Edgeworth had always had a bit of a dependency on tea. A dignified addiction, one could say. Franziska did not particularly dislike tea, but she had never understood his fascination with it. The appeal of waterlogged leaves only beckoned so far in her mind.

There he was, sitting at a small table near the window. Unusual, he used to be one to sit near the back, where no passersby could see him and whisper malicious rumors. But he had changed since three years ago, and she found him sitting near windows more often. If asked, he would probably reply that the sunlight made for easier reading and less strain on his eyes. But to Franziska, who watched him reading his notes with an unashamed, if not dignified, look of contentment as she approached, he almost seemed to be angling his face towards the light. Like he enjoyed it.

She sat down across from him, no invitation needed. He was her little brother, despite his older age, so she could do with him as she pleased. Miles Edgeworth took his time, finishing up whatever he was reading, before pushing the papers aside. He was smiling, ever so slightly, barely noticeable to the untrained eye. Franziska could see it clear as day. Tt was jarring to her, who had seen him somber most of their childhood.

"You look displeased." He said with an amused eyebrow raised, taking up his cup of tea and pressing it to his lips.

"I am far beyond displeased, Miles Edgeworth! I am appalled! To think that someone of my merit, with my legacy of perfection, would be required to provide what essentially boils down to community service!"

She heard him chuckle behind his cup, before placing it down between his hands. "And do you plan to continue prattling on about this grave injustice, or have you concocted a plan of action?"

Franziska pursed her lips in disapproval. He was playing with her, talking to her as if she was some naïve child. She opened her mouth to verbally lash back, but a waitress interrupted. Without listening to a word, Franziska waved the woman off. She didn't come here for tea and a friendly chat. She came here to put that smug fool Miles Edgeworth in his place!

"It isn't such a terrible thing. I personally provided free legal aid to a few underprivileged families." He explained, taking up his cup for another drink.

Of course! She could have done that, easily! Putting up with the multitude of ignorant fools and their bawling brats would have been irritating, but at least it was a job she knew how to do. Damn Miles Edgeworth for thinking of it first!

"Fool! If you think that I would follow in your footsteps like some blind schoolgirl admirer…"

He shrugged, shaking his head in that infuriatingly condescending way he did in court. Franziska gripped the edge of the table tightly to contain her rage. Who did he think he was?!

"It was a suggestion, Franziska. Take it or don't. There are plenty of other option availa—"

"Like what?" It's rude to interrupt, her mind chastised. She didn't care. If he wanted to play games, she could too.

He frowned, unimpressed with her childish shift in demeanor. He leaned back, withdrawing, using his height to his advantage. He wasn't playing anymore, he was dictating. Franziska twisted her napkin in her hands, under the table. If he thought she would be intimidated, he was sorely mistaken!

"Very well, if you insist, I believe a certain aspiring artist was asking for your help a couple months ago."

"What are you talking about?" She didn't know any artists. Their pitiful excuse for a profession was not one she went out of her way to seek out or even acknowledge.

"Larry Butz, or as you may know him, Laurice Deuxnim; the fool who asked you to model for his children's book. As I recall it, you eventually agreed just to be rid of him. Remember?"

Laurice Deuxnim? That fool among fools? The very KING of fools, lacking a crown only because his foolishly foolish head was probably too foolishly empty to support one!

"What of him?!"

Edgeworth brought a finger to his forehead, smirking in that self-satisfied way of his. Why did she suddenly feel deceived? "I'm willing to bet Larry's made little to no progress on said books. Helping the only known apprentice to the late Elise Deuxnim, so that his books can bring the joy of reading to young children everywhere? You would be hard-pressed to find a cause which looked worthier on paper."

Franziska narrowed her eyes, examining his face. He had to be joking! Did he really expect that she'd go gallivanting off to help that incurable fool write a foolishly foolish disgrace of a book?! Based on _herself_, no less?

That warm glow had returned to his eyes. Franziska remembered, when they were children he'd had that same glow. Even through his crushing grief, there had been a certain humanity to those eyes. She had never seen such a thing in her family before. But with time, it had been disciplined out of him; he had been honed into a perfect prosecuting machine.

Somehow he'd gotten it back. She was both disgusted by this fact, and slightly relieved. Miles Edgeworth may have been a second-rate romanticist in his heart, but perhaps he was supposed to be. He was a von Karma only by his upbringing. He was not held to the standards that she was; a von Karma by blood.

Slamming her hands against the table, Franziska stood up, excusing herself with a pointed "OBJECTION!"

Everyone in the tea house turned to look as the perfectly enraged female prosecutor stormed out. Once gone, their eyes turned to the man in the wine-colored suit whom she had been sitting with. Miles Edgeworth feigned disinterest, returning to his papers and tea.

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Please review! It helps to know other people's takes and opinons on the characters. And lets me know if people like it enough for me to continue posting this story or if I should move on. Thanks!


	3. Open

**Open**

Even his front door was left ajar, open. Could this man be anymore foolish, anymore idiotic? Franziska brought a pristine, gloved hand to her face, filtering the air as best she could for fear of airborne microbes. There was no floor to be seen, only piles of clothes, used dishes, scattered art supplies, and unclassifiable rubbish littering the already small and cramped apartment.

In the center of the room, snoring loudly as he lay facedown on the shabby, shredded sofa; stained to the point that its original color was utterly indistinguishable, lay the man she had come here seeking. His arm that draped off the sofa loosely clutched what appeared to be a champagne bottle. Careful not to touch anything, her mouth and nose still covered, Franziska crouched down for a better look. Upon closer inspection, it was only a bottle of sparkling cider. Franziska rolled her eyes and stood up straight in disgust. If it wasn't bad enough that he was a drunken fool, he was too much of a fool to even be a drunken fool _correctly_!

Franziska eyed the snoring lump critically. He was hardly the model of an ideal client. But to give up now was to let Miles Edgeworth win! He'd set her to this challenge, surely expecting failure. She would not play into his hand! She would make a respectable artist—or as respectable as any artist _could_ be—out of this foolish fool, and she would do so without sacrificing the quality of her work as a prosecutor in the slightest! She was a von Karma, after all. She was perfect.

Steeling her strength, Franziska moved her hand away from her face, fighting the urge to hold her breath. A person's home or office told volumes about the person. If she couldn't handle his home, she wasn't going to get very far with him in person. First thing was first, though. She had to wake him. But how to go about it? He was filthy, germ ridden, and probably diseased. Even if he hadn't been such a mess, his very being revolted her. There was no way she was going to touch… _it_. How could anyone live like this? Like an infected swine in slop? Just standing in the room made her want to run home and bathe.

No, she couldn't run away now. Not when she had already gone out of her way to come here, and braved the biohazard for almost ten minutes. With practiced precision, she unhitched the whip from her belt. She almost reconsidered letting the fine leather make contact with the grimy bulge which thought itself a person.

Almost.

The sharp _CRACK_ of whip against flesh echoed through the small apartment, followed immediately by a squeal of pain as Larry Butz, not-yet-renown-artist, flew an inch in the air and flipped around onto his back. Bleary with confusion, Larry sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes.

"Sierra? That you, babe?" he mumbled, squinting around the room for any sign of the woman he had fallen asleep lamenting. "Didja change your mind?"

Franziska sneered, cracking the whip in her hands for good measure, feeling a small prickle of delight when the fool's head snapped to her in a panic. "There is no 'babe' here, Laurice Deuxnim! Only your new manager. And I will accept nothing less than perfection!"

"Manager?" Larry blinked, scratching the back of his head in completely bafflement. "Wait aren't you…?" A wide, lopsided smile spread across his face as recognition sunk in. "Franzy! Hey! Long time no see. What brings you by?"

The fool did not even have the common sense to ask how she had found his home or gotten in without a key. Franziska whipped the back of the sofa, adding another tear to the multitude of rips already there. "Fool! My name is Franziska von Karma! I am here to make sure you finish that absurdity of a children's book! Have you even started it?"

Larry's smile slowly dwindled, and he brought his hands to his temples, wincing as he rubbed them. "Ow… I have such a hangover. My girl Sierra dumped me, so I had a rough night. But I'll get back to you on tha—ACK!" Franziska's whip objected before he could even finish.

"Foolish excuses are for foolishly foolish fools with no motivation." She crossed her arms, walking over to look down at the pitiful creature sitting below her. "Consider this an intervention! You asked for me to model for your book? Then I shall start by modeling you into a passable human being! You will finish that book, and you shall do it in a timely manner. I shall arrange a schedule for you. Five pages a day should be simple enough, even for one as useless as you." She turned away, gesturing around the room. "I also expect this place to be completely organized by the time I return. I will be coming often to pick up your pages, and I will not stand for such unsanitary conditions!"

She looked back at the cockroach of a man. Larry had stuck a finger in his ear and was twisting it. Franziska resisted the impulse to gag as she watched him pull his finger out and wipe it on his jeans. "Uhh… sure? Okay, I can do that. Is this some kinda special request or something?"

"It is for your career, you insignificant insect! Now get to work! I expect this entire flat to be spotless and the assigned pages completed when I return tomorrow." She watched his face, waiting for any sign he had understood.

"Insect?" he whined pathetically. "Ah, come on, Franzy. Yeah, I'll clean up. D'ya wanna stay for breakfast or something?"

"It's passed noon." Franziska scoffed. What a fool.

"Lunch then. Maybe we can talk, catch up. It's been a long time. How've you been?" Another crack of the whip silenced him. Now she was fuming.

"I have no interest in frivolous conversation, especially with the likes of you! I am here for professional matters only! Nothing more! Now good day."

She turned on her heel and marched out of the apartment. As she slid passed the door, she heard Larry call out from behind her, "Ok Franzy. Good seeing you again. Take care!"

Franziska did not even bother to look back until she had gotten into her car. A total imbecile! What was he thinking, engaging her to stay for a chat or asking her to take care? He hardly knew her! What in the world could possibly be going through his empty, grubby head, inviting her in unquestioned like that? The man was worthless, in every way imaginable.

What kind of fool left himself unguarded, so open to attack?

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Hey everyone! I see this story's been getting quite a lot of hits but not reviews. I take it then, it's not to your liking? I could discontinue this one, as I do have different story ideas. I know this one started out slow, but it really does have a place to go. Honest. =/


	4. Little things

**Little-Things**

It was difficult to say what irked Franziska von Karma most about Larry Butz. If asked, she could simplify by grouping it all together and replying _everything,_ but that felt too unspecific for such an acute annoyance. If she had to assign a label to it, she supposed it would probably be the little things. The little quirks that completely circumvented common sense and boggled the mind, _that_ was what drove her mad. She could not interpret a reason behind his worthless actions, and to a von Karma, who wasted no effort on anything which would not yield perfect results, there were few things quite as maddening as trying to pinpoint the method behind such madness!

She had soon learned that her initial request had been far too ambitious. She had returned to his apartment the following day, only to find not a single page finished, and his living conditions as toxic as she had first found them. He had picked up the dishes, but he hadn't bothered to wash them, leaving a mountain of precariously balanced ceramic and possibly molding slop in the sink. Franziska had whipped him for this, but after a prolonged session of whining and wheedling on his part, she finally ascertained that this man was too lacking in discipline to even accomplish what she considered the most menial of tasks. It figured; _artists_.

In the end she had hired a cleaning service to deal with the apartment, as she couldn't be bothered to teach the imbecile how to properly care for his own home. She was here for one purpose and one alone. She had no time for this starry eyed fool and the praises he showered upon her for her generosity. Ha! Generosity indeed! More like charity!

Forced to lower her expectations, much to her chagrin, Franziska assigned the fool a meager page a day! Only a single page! Even he, in all his idiotic failure, should be able to handle such a task.

Oh, how he continued to prove her wrong. The fool gave her nonsense, trying to pass off his margin scribbles as artwork. She nearly tore her hair out! Did he think her too ignorant to know the difference?!

Only her pride prevented her from throwing her arms in the air and giving up this pointless charade. She could not fail. She was a von Karma. She was perfect. And she would never admit defeat, most especially to Miles Edgeworth!

But that was when the situation had taken a turn for the personally irritating. One day, Larry somehow found his way to her office, asking when her lunch break was, hoping they could grab a bite to eat together. When she had harshly informed him that she had neither the time nor the need for a lunch break, he had been appalled! It had taken a severe whipping to get him out of the room. And that was that. Or so she had naively believed.

The very next day, he had returned. For a man so lax when it came to his own well-being, he could be gratingly persistent when it came to pestering Franziska about hers. The fool had the nerve to show up at her office with a packed lunch. He hadn't stayed long, saying he understood she had work to do and wouldn't disturb her, but simply left the box on her desk before blowing her a kiss and scurrying away.

Only curiosity had prompted her to open the box, and inside she had found an expertly prepared submarine sandwich from the little deli down the street. For a moment Franziska entertained the idea of swiping the sandwich straight into her garbage bin, but the fact that the sandwich had probably been packed at the restaurant and thus never touched the fool's filthy hands detained her. As long as the food was here, there was no point in letting it go to waste. Once she tasted the sandwich, however, she realized that she was actually quite famished and devoured the entire thing in scarcely three minutes. She was further surprised to find how much more productive the rest of the day was, energized by the simple meal.

She wished it had ended there, but no. After that day, Larry made a habit of dropping by around lunch and bringing her something to eat. He didn't stay long, and if he tried she fixed him with an icy glare, but he always returned the next day no matter how strongly she insisted that she did not need lunch. By the end of the first week, she had giving up arguing about it with him at all.

Truth be told, a part of her had begun to look forward to her imposed lunch time. He always took care to bring her something different so she would never grow weary of the meals. And what a variety! Not only a plethora of different sandwiches, but Chinese food, Brazilian churrasquerias, traditional Mexican, fresh Mediterranean, sushi rolls, southern barbeque, country chicken, and anything else in the Los Angeles area!

One time, he included an extra little box as well, with a note taped on top which read in childish, almost indecipherable writing, "_It made me think of you_. 3" She had opened the box to find a delicate slice of German chocolate cake.

Such a little thing, remembering she was German and thinking to find her a slice of chocolate cake. Little things like bringing her lunch everyday, keeping track of what he had gotten her in the past so he would not serve her the same meal twice. Such little things were what infuriated her the most! His time would be better spent working on his foolish pages for his foolish book instead of parading around town like a fool, foolishly looking for the next foolish restaurant to foolishly fetch her a meal from!

Franziska was so incensed by the mere thought of the fool using this cute little scheme as a ploy to shrug off work, she flung the box—pretty little cake and all—across the room with furious force. The cake splattered on the opposite wall of her office, sticking and slowly sliding down in a syrupy mess, before peeling away and falling to the floor with an unbefitting squish. Her wall continued to drip chocolate icing and caramel sauce onto the polished hardwood floor, making thick droplet _plunks_, which only served to further fuel her rage. Even without being present, he had stolen the silence from her perfect office. Something as little as silence…

That was it! She had decided that the very next day would be the last. She would send him away in handcuffs if she had to, but she would not accept a single thing more from him! Yet again, he surprised her. He had shown up empty handed the next day, with a proposal in place of his customary boxed meal.

"Franzy, I know you have a lot of work to do, but you really need to relax already! I mean, do you really work seven days a week? That's harsh! Look, I'll make you a deal. Come out to lunch with me today, just for an hour, one teensy tiny hour, and I promise by the time you get off work, I'll have five—no—TEN pages done for you! Top quality stuff! No foolin'!"

Her first instinct was to refuse to dignify such an absurd request with a verbal reply, then to whip him into submission and have security escort him off the premises. But a glance at the dent in the plaster of her far office wall gave her pause, as she remembered the phone that had made the dent, and her fast approaching deadline. She had tried fighting with him, to no avail. Perhaps if she humored him, just a miniscule bit, he would respond.

After stressing this as a once-in-a-lifetime aberration, she had agreed. Franziska figured, after a lifetime of perfection, what was one miserable hour off?

The lunch itself was nothing extraordinary. He took her to a quaint little breakfast café. She ordered coffee to keep herself occupied until her meal arrived, while he spent the time scribbling with the crayons he had snatched from the waitress when her back was turned. She rebuffed any attempts made at conversation, and eventually the fool got the message and ate in silence. When the check came, his card was declined—no doubt from buying her lunch every day the past couple weeks—and so she had slammed a large bill on the table and left him there to deal with the change. She did not look back to see him sitting there, quiet, dejectedly looking down at his crayon masterpieces on the table, alone.

Not especially memorable, the lunch had not been anywhere near as unbearable as Franziska had expected. In fact, it was downright forgettable. The truly extraordinary part had come when she had finished work and left for his apartment. She had been expecting to deal another reprimand while enduring more pitiful excuses. Instead she found him waiting, a bound manila envelope in hand. Inside were not five, not ten, but twelve completed pages; everyone one of them drawn with a consistent style in mind, and skillfully colored. He explained that he had started the outlines for them at the café and then rushed home to finish them.

It was then that something clicked in Franziska's mind. It was _supervision_ that the fool needed. Genius that she was, she had cracked the simpleton's nut-sized brain. Quick to act, Franziska formed a plan of action. She made sure to bring her work to his home, making a desk out of his freshly cleaned kitchen table. Sure enough, under her fierce, watchful eye, the fool made progress. Inversely, Franziska made relatively little progress. All the little things he did; whistling while he worked, clicking his tongue or saying 'no' to himself whenever something didn't fit, sighing pointedly when he was bored, snacking on foods that made loud crunching noises and doing so with his mouth wide open, it was enough to tempt her to flip the table over and forcibly teach him the meaning of _being quiet_!

With an iron-clad force of will, Franziska endured. As soon as he finished the book she would never have to deal with this disaster of a human being again.

Those little things, those blood boiling, spine-crawling, sanity draining little things! Oh, what she would give to be rid of them. To be rid of _him_.

Working late one night, Franziska fell asleep at the kitchen table. She awoke later to find a tacky orange jacket draped over her shoulders. She started, sickened at the thought of anything of _his_ touching her clean, perfect self. But as she reached up to yank off the offending article of clothing, she inhaled a hint of scented detergent. Perhaps the hired cleaners had done laundry, for surely the fool hadn't done it himself! Franziska looked down at the ugly, albeit clean, jacket in her hands, at a loss. Why would he do such a thing? Since the morning she had found him asleep on his mangled sofa, she had never seen him take it off.

Finding him nowhere in sight, she peeked into his bedroom to find him sprawled out sloppily on his bed, pages everywhere, some crinkling underneath his weight as he loudly snored away, oblivious. He looked such a mess, such an utter, hopeless fool.

It was the little things like this which drove her mad, but the one thing that perturbed her the most, was the fact that she was starting not to mind so much.

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Thanks so much for reading! Please review! If you don't Larry will cry.

**Larry:** CRYYYY!

**Franziska:** In the name of my perfect hearing, REVIEW! SHUT UP YOU FOOLISH, FOOL!


	5. Sharp

**Sharp**

Larry thought she'd probably want to meet at a burger joint or something. Surprising, she'd actually invited him over to her apartment. He'd never been over there before, even when she used to pal around with Nick. Maya had a way of throwing everyone around her for a loop. It was one of the things Larry liked about her. That, and she was a real cutie too.

When he arrived, she opened the door, smiling widely in that way of hers that just seemed to cheer up everyone in the area, inviting him in without hesitation. She walked him over to a stack of Steel Samurai DVDs, which she was working on packing into several boxes for shipping.

"Who're you sending these to?" Larry asked, helping pile in DVDs, it never occurring to him that manual labor was the reason she had chosen the apartment to meet at.

Maya smiled secretively, cutting out even strips of tape with a sharp fruit knife. "They're for Nick."

Larry did a double take, nearly toppling the stack of DVDs beside him. "NICK?! No way! Is he talking to you again? I woulda bugged him instead if he'd return any of my calls! Last time I tried to visit, he wouldn't let me in! I kept knockin' and cryin' at the door, and the jerk called the cops on me! What a dog, man! Some best friend!"

Maya paused, only for a moment, before resuming her packing. Only her faded smile showed that she had even heard Larry. "No, he… He won't open the door for me either. And I think he's changed his number." Maya sighed, setting the fruit knife down in her lap and gesturing for Larry to lean in, as if she had some delicious secret to share. "But you know who I have been talking to?"

"Who?" Larry whispered loudly, looking around as if anyone might be spying on them in Maya's apartment. "Secret boyfriend?"

Maya laughed in his face, making Larry jump in surprise. "Secret boyfriend? Me? Yeah right! No, Larry. I was talking about Edgeworth."

"Edgey?" Larry blinked in confusion. Was it 'Bring A Prosecutor Home Month' or something? "Heeey, he won't return my calls eithe—"

"Larry," Maya interrupted before Larry launched into another tale of best friend woes, "he's probably just busy. It's hard being Edgeworth. Always having to do up your fancy suits and keep you hair in place. The poor man must be exhausted!" Larry couldn't help but laugh.

"Nick doesn't know what he's missing out on, Maya." It was true. Maya could make anyone feel relaxed. No wonder even Edgeworth talked to her.

"Anyway, Edgeworth told me not to worry about Nick." Maya continued, cutting a few more pieces of tape to seal a box, and then moving onto the next one. "He said sometimes a man needs some time alone to work himself out after he's been shattered. This whole... _badgeless_ thing is tough for Nick. If he wants to be alone for now, then it's best if we just let him… figure things out. I guess Edgeworth would know."

Larry nodded, biting the inside of his cheek. Edgey always was the smart one, he probably would know best. Still, something about all this just didn't sit right with Larry. From the tired look of Maya's smile, something told him that it didn't sit right with _her_ either.

"But then, if Edgey told ya to leave him alone, why're you sending Nick these DVDs?" Maya stiffened, her hand flying to the knife in her lap. She turned to grab the tape roll behind her, even though she hadn't finished filling the box. Was she trying to hide her face from him? Ah, so he'd found a contradiction. Man, that felt awesome. No wonder Nick did it all the time.

Maya turned back, smiling mischievously. Weird. Maybe he was wrong then? "I _am_ leaving him alone. I'm not calling him, or showing up at his house, or trying to make contact with him. As far as he's concerned, he can consider these a gift from an anonymous benefactor." Giggling at her own clever loophole, Maya tossed the tape to Larry, who barely managed to catch it before it hit him in the head. He had the worst luck with that sort of stuff! "But this way, he won't be able to avoid looking at giant stacks of DVDs lying around his home. They'll be a reminder, that whenever he's ready to come back to us, we'll be here waiting."

Larry rolled the tape back and forth in his hands thoughtfully. Maya sure could be smart herself. "Man, Maya. Brains and looks. Just like your sister. Hey, you wanna catch a movie? Maybe dinner?" Maybe Nick didn't appreciate what he was missing, but Larry sure did!

Maya shook her head, giving him a sympathetic smile. Larry's shoulders slumped. Even before she opened her mouth, he knew he'd been rejected. Again. "Larry, didn't you call me because you were having trouble getting through to some girl you liked?"

Oh yeah. That was the reason, wasn't it? But now that he was actually here, Larry didn't really feel like talking about Franzy. There was just too much to explain. Really, he wished someone would explain it to _him_. He had no idea why she was doing all these nice things for him if she hated him as much as she said she did. He'd tried showing his thanks by being super nice back and doing everything she said as best he could, but it was never good enough. Not that it bugged him too much; he was used to messing things up. He just didn't know what else he could do to make her less mad all the time.

"Yeah, about that. Never mind. I just realized she's way outta my league anyway. She's just one of those real smart ones, you know?" He stared down at the tape in his hands. It was pretty dumb that Maya needed a knife. Couldn't the stupid tape be easy to rip? What a bad design. She could cut herself or something.

"Ow!" Maya cried out, bringing her finger to her lip. Larry was on his feet in an instant and by her side in the next.

"You okay? What happened?!"

"I cut myself." Maya whined, giving him a little pout. She was such a cutie. Why did Nick get all the pretty assistants? And he never even shared! Not once! What a jerk!

"Lemme see." Larry took her hand and looked closely at the cut. It wasn't deep at all, just a little one. He'd gotten cuts like that lots of times. She'd be fine. "It looks okay. Does it hurt a lot?" Maya shook her head, smiling bravely at him. She was so great.

"No, I'm fine. Thanks." She pulled her hand back, returning to the DVD packing as if the cut had never happened. "You're a good guy, Larry." Maya said, focused on what she was doing. "You'll make some girl very happy someday."

Larry sighed, leaning back against some piece of furniture he couldn't be bothered to look at, packing job forgotten. "Yeah, I guess… maybe… Until I do something stupid and mess it up."

"No, I mean it!" Maya said, whirling to face him and wagging the knife in his face. Larry held up his hands in alarm.

"Whoa! Watch where you're waving that thing!"

"You listen to me, Larry Butz!" Maya continued, ignoring his warning, free hand on her hip, completely serious. "You keep putting yourself down like that, and you'll never get what you want! Sure, people are different, but that doesn't mean they're worth less! It's like…" she stopped, putting the knife to her lip as she gathered up her thoughts. Larry cringed, he hoped she didn't get excited and accidentally cut herself on the face. "It's like this knife!" she blurted suddenly, eyes lighting up with inspiration.

"People are like knives… they're shiny?"

"No! Look, when you think of a knife, what do you think of?" Larry opened his mouth to answer, but Maya cut in, "Right, you think of cutting! Why? Because knives are sharp. It's the same with people. We think that sharper people are better, more important somehow. But think of all the things you couldn't do if the knife was _all_ sharp! You wouldn't be able to push your food onto your fork without skewering it, or spread butter on your toast without poking holes all over the place. Heck, you wouldn't even be able to hold the knife! The dull parts are just as important as the sharp parts, and it's the same with people. Sometimes you just need to work a little harder to prove it."

Larry sat there, thinking about what Maya had just said. Maya sure could sure be a little out-there sometimes. But maybe she had a point. "So… you think I should go for it?"

"Larry, this knife would be useless without the dull parts." Maya said over her shoulder as she pushed down on an over-stuffed box's lid. "It'd be incomplete."

Larry nodded. He couldn't argue with that logic, weird as it was. He'd think about it later. This was all a little too much for him to figure out all at once. He should change the subject.

"So, is it true you gave up being the Master of Kurain?"

Maya sat back on her knees, shrugging. "Pearly's powers were always stronger than mine. It was only fair. I know Pearly's always gonna be on my side, but I didn't want to risk fights about it with anyone else in the village, you know?" Larry really didn't, but he nodded anyway. "Besides, I think I'd rather be a lawyer anyway. What with sis and Nick both outta commission, the world needs someone to fight for TRUTH and JUSTICE again!"

"So you're gonna be a defense attorney?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure yet." She laughed suddenly, like she had just thought of something really funny. "Actually, Edgeworth offered to help pay for my school. He feels like he still owes me for helping him back with that von Karma trial for some reason. Plus, I think he feels bad about the whole Nick thing. And with Edgeworth going back to Europe soon, he's probably worried I'll be lonely if I don't have something to keep me busy."

Larry opened his mouth to protest, it wasn't like Maya couldn't come to _him_ if she was lonely, but then stopped himself. There was something else more important. "Maya, do you think Franzy will be going back to Germany too?"

"Hmm? Probably. Anyway, we really should hurry and finish these up—"

"I gotta go!" Larry said, standing and sprinting towards the door. "Thanks for the chat Maya! Call me to hang out anytime! Lots of love, bye!"

"Uh… bye?" The slamming door was her only reply. Maya Fey sat on her floor in her apartment, surrounded by boxes of partially packed DVDs, left only to wonder what crazy thought had latched itself onto Larry's head.

* * *

And now, Larry wants to give some replies to his wonderful reviewers.

**Mia Fey Ace Attorney**: Whoa! You reviewed EVERY chapter! You're tops! (Butz thumbs up) Yeah, I like Franzy a TON. She's sooooo beautiful and smart and sassy and WE WERE JUST MEANT TO BE! Thanks for all your awesome reviews. They make me want to draw. Maybe I'll write a book about you! Mia Fey: Ace Attorney: And Friends.

**Gavin Gal:** You'll keep reading? YES! What a relief. Some girls just won't give you a second chance, ya know? Thanks for keeping an open mind!

**Franini:** My FIRST review! (hugs) Thank you for having faaaaaaaaaaaith! (sniff) If means everything!


	6. Window

**Window**

Franziska von Karma was not looking forward to checking in on the fool. She had begun to fall behind schedule, and had been forced to give him the weekend off just so she could go back to her office and catch up on her work for a couple days. Disgraceful, if she wasn't so efficient she might have had to drop a case!

Who knew what the fool had done in the interim? Surely he had accomplished nothing! Ha, she would only be half surprised if he had somehow managed to destroy all the work she had managed to force him to accomplish thus far!

And thus fearing the worst, whip tight in hand, Franziska approached the door to the fool's apartment. As usual, it was unlocked, so Franziska let herself in without hesitation. The fool lay asleep on the couch, not an unusual position to find him in either, snoring away like an undomesticated beast. At least he had managed to keep the place clean, or relatively so. There were still used dishes, but they were all in the sink, and the unwashed clothes had found a home in the hamper rather than all over the floor. His art supplies were scattered about messily, which she found peculiar. The fool hadn't actually taken the initiative and worked on his pages, has he?

Mind occupied puzzling over this apparent contradiction, Franziska did not even think when she roused Larry with a rough shake rather than her customary lash of the whip.

"Mmm… Franzy?" Larry muttered as he sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Typical, he always woke with a woman's name on his lips. Franziska bristled at hearing her name in his tired voice. Who knew what the fool had been disgustingly fantasizing in his foolishly unfeasible dreams?

"Fool! It is almost four in the evening! Why are you not up and working on your pages?!" A crack of the whip and a yelp later, Larry was wide awake.

"H-hey! Don't be like that… I can't work on my pages," he said with that sheepish grin which always spoke of guilt.

"And why, in the name of all that is reasonable, not?!"

"Because!" he said, raising one hand defensively and pointing to a bound manila envelope on the coffee table with the other, "I already finished it!" He smiled that stupidly wide smile that made his eyes squint with it's… wideness. Oh, how she _hated_ that smile of his! Surely the fool had scrawled nonsense scribbles and expected to pull one over on her. Franziska von Karma would not be made a fool of, and she did not find his attempt amusing in the least. She snatched the envelope from the table, preparing to throw away the worthless pages, glancing inside only briefly on her way to the trash receptacle.

Franziska stopped, mid-step.

He… he had actually done it. The foolishly foolish fool… the very KING of fools himself, had somehow managed to complete his pages! And they were good! Well, good by his pitiful standards; so not exactly good, but as good as they were going to get. Franziska turned to Larry, infuriated to find that same overly-joyous smile of his. As if a shamefully simplistic children's book was such an accomplishment!

"And that's not all! I got you a present too!" The fool reached into his pocket, twisting ridiculously on the couch to fit his hand in and then pull it back out. Making such a scene when he could have just stood up, really… "I was just thinking, you know, you're always at the office so late, and there are a lot of creeps around and I want you to be safe. So here!"

Franziska's hand shot to her whip; poised to teach the fool how wrong he was in his assessment of her as a helpless, dainty damsel. Her eyes drifted down to the offending gift offered her, and froze. The blood ran cold in her veins as her mind registered just what she was looking at.

The fool had gotten her a taser…

Images came, unbidden, of a man so prominent in her life, now dead, and yet never truly gone. He was there, always, whispering in her head, planting doubtful thoughts and condemning her every action as less than perfect. And there was no greater sin than for a von Karma to deny perfection! Dark memories, long repressed and buried deep, came breaking through to the surface. Memories of herself, smaller, weaker, unable to complete an equation designed for a student more advanced in years. Most often, the lash of cane and tongue were punishment enough. But on occasion, when such punishments did not suffice, when her offense had been too great or her ignorance too unforgivable, rarely did he turn his darling device on his own children. That pain, that feeling of helplessness, powerless to stop her own body from convulsing, unable even to scream, but in her mind those bloodcurdling screams were deafening!

Calling upon every ounce of will she could muster, Franziska forced herself to ignore the metallic taste of blood rising in her throat, surely imagined, as she reached out and took the offered gift, struggling to keep her expression impassive, unreadable. But her discomfort was too evident, too thinly veiled, and even Larry's idle gaze could not help but notice the slight tremble in the hand that touched his as she removed the taser from his steady grasp.

"Is something wrong?"

A wave of panic washed over her, quickly passing as Franziska remembered who was addressing her. She straightened, clearing her throat, wary that her voice did not waver as she met his worried stare. "Don't be absurd, you foolish fool! I am perfectly fine."

"Then why do your eyes look sad?" He replied, not missing a beat. Franziska was suddenly aware of his eyes studying hers, looking for any flicker, any sign of weakness. Franziska had never been especially good at reading people, not like her father. She remembered all too well the German proverb he would so often recite; _The eyes believe themselves, the ears believe others._ He had tried to instill upon her that uncanny ability to see through a person's words, to what their countenance betrayed. She had found the ability impossible to truly master. Why, then, did this fool, who knew _nothing_, seem to have such a talent for it?

"You incompetent fool! How could they? Unless I was crying, which even a fool such as you can clearly see I am not!" She insisted, tearing her eyes away from his, unable to face his intense scrutiny. "Perfection does not cry!" She turned away with every intention to storm out the door with the envelope and never return, but she found her movement impeded as a pair of gentle arms came to rest around her waist.

Larry pressed his face to her back firmly, his voice muffled against her form. "Good thing… I'm not perfect…" She felt his sobs, heard his quiet little sniffles, and she could not even find it in herself to be angry. She was simply baffled. Why was he crying? What for? Was he crying… for _her_? But _why_? What reason could he possibly have? How could her internal struggle, one that in no way affected him, possibly bring him to tears? Foolish man, to cry over nonsense!

Yet even as her mind raged against him, she could not help the slight fluttering in the pit of her stomach. Her father had never been an affectionate man, any lingering sense of affection had quickly been disciplined out of Miles Edgeworth, and she had never known her mother. It was a little frightening to realize that this was the first time she had ever been held. Larry's arms around her, gentle and undemanding, felt so foreign. She couldn't understand the strange sensation of warmth it brought to her lower belly, and the unfamiliarity of it all sent a surge of electrifying panic through her system. He might as well have turned the taser on her!

With a cry of alarm, Franziska whirled around and shoved the fool back, her whip immediately flying through the air to deliver a fierce attack. "Don't you touch me, you fool!" she shrieked, her voice high and grating, scratching her throat, now she really could taste blood.

Larry nearly lost his footing, but managed to regain his balance against the wall behind him. Steadying himself, he looked back at her, no anger or fear in his eyes, only a strengthened concern. The idiot! He should worry about _himself_! Didn't he understand she had just assaulted him?!

"Whoa, okay…" he put his hands between them to maintain their distance, palms spread wide to show he meant no harm. "You're right, I'm sorry. I was outta line there." He bit the inside of his cheek, cautiously taking a step forward and then retracting it when she raised the whip in response. "Look, I… I didn't mean to get fresh! Your eyes just looked sad to me, and I thought maybe you didn't like the present. The man at the store said it was a good brand, but maybe he didn't know what he was talking about. I can get you a different one if you want…?"

Franziska stared for a moment, before the fool's words sunk in. Did he really think she was upset over the _brand_ of his unnecessary gift? Of all the frivolous motives to be upset! She lowered her whip, casting Larry a smoldering glare. "No need. Keep your foolish gift. I have no need for anything of the sort." She said, tossing the taser over the back of the sofa without giving it another glance.

Larry cringed like a kicked puppy, but nodded without complaint. "Yeah, okay…" He seemed to consider for a moment, and then suddenly felt the urge to explain, "Sorry again. It's just, you know that saying? The windows are the eyes of the soul…?"

"The eyes are windows to the soul." She corrected harshly. Now he was quoting clichés at her?

"Yeah, that…" he smiled, but it dissolved when Franziska did not return the gesture. "Well, I was probably wrong then. Sorry." His hands dropped to his sides, dangling uselessly. "But you know what makes me sad?" Franziska said nothing; she could never be sure where the fool's train of thoughtlessness would lead her. She was not pleased with the lack of control. "Macaroni pictures." He looked away, focusing on the back of the couch.

Franziska tucked her whip back into her belt, waiting for the fool to elaborate. She couldn't fathom why something as innocuous as a common children's craft would evoke any sort of feeling. This man had the mind of a particularly dim-witted child!

"It was the only thing I was good at; art. When we were kids, I was a master at them. Edgey was usually the really smart one but he sucked at art class, so he used to get _so_ mad when I'd get better grades than him." Larry paused, smiling at the memory, and chuckled softly. "It makes me sad because those were the only times me, Edgey, and Nick were all together, happy, no calling each other 'Wright' or 'Mr. Edgeworth' or pretending we weren't friends… I wish we hadn't wasted it fighting over stupid macaroni pictures…" Larry turned back to face her, tears glistening in his eyes. "Isn't that the saddest thing you've ever heard?" He said sappily.

His voice was melodramatic, his usual exaggerated fare, and yet something in his eyes spoke true. Even she, who lacked talent in reading others, could see plain as day; he wasn't kidding. To that oversensitive dolt, this regret was very real. She could not find it in her to degrade him. Who was she to question his pain, when a simple, well-intentioned gift had set her off?

"So!" He said, taking a deep breath to chase away his sorrows. "Now your turn; tasers make you unhappy because…?"

He was incorrigible. And as it had been with the lunch issue, she knew the fool would not be satisfied until she humored him. "I… I heard a story once about them… About a little girl who had a bad run in with them." Even as she spoke the words, she knew the excuse was weak.

"Hey Franzy? …was the little girl you?" Even the fool could see through her argument. She had to get out of here, had to escape. Why was he so persistent?!

"No, of course not! I had a perfect childhood, as perfection should!" She snapped backing away, feeling cornered, as if Phoenix Wright had just found a fatal flaw in her perfect witness testimony! It was a lie she had told herself all her life; that her whole life had been perfect, with no grief or pain, or joy, just cold perfection. She was no victim, she was the one to be feared; the prosecutor!

Larry's eyes were sad as he nodded, seeming to accept Franziska's refusal to open up to him. "Okay but... can I have a hug? I'm still sad about the macaroni." he asked with a sad little smile, holding his arms out wide; inviting. She felt herself take a step forward, the fluttering in the pit of her stomach surging for a moment, before catching herself. She stomped, as if to emphasize her own stop, and brandished the whip to point accusingly at Larry, relishing how his entire body cringed in response; expecting another lash.

"You most certainly may not! Foolish fool, our relationship is of a professional nature, nothing more! Save your simpering affections for your next trollop, for as long as she can stomach you." Larry winced, stricken. Franziska lowered her whip, suddenly aware of how cruel her words had truly been. She had merely meant it as a distraction, to cast attention away from her and onto him. She hadn't meant for it to actually wound him.

Larry turned away, walking around to the front of the couch and taking a seat. He did not even look back at her as he slumped down, grabbing hold of the remote and turning on the television, quieter than she had ever seen him. For the most part, Franziska was relieved. With his eyes now focused elsewhere, no longer watching her, nothing prevented her from leaving. Then why did she feel rooted to the spot? Something nipped at her insides, cold and twisting. She felt… _guilty_. The man was a fool, wearing his heart on his sleeve as he did. But that in itself deserved no assault. He had only been concerned for her, and as superfluous and unwanted as his concern had been, in the end it had only been kindness. Kindness like she had never known.

In the back of her mind, _his_ voice sneered, insisting that the fool deserved to be crushed for leaving himself so open, his eyes so clear and uncovered. He had been _asking_ for it. Such foolishness only poisoned humanity, better that he die than infect others.

"Fool…" she muttered softly as she turned and walked out the door, carefully shutting it behind her.

* * *

Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers! It means so much to me, and the feedback really helps!

Yes, Larry is a real sweetheart, isn't he? It's a shame he's so flaky and immature, but he really means the best. Why can't you see, Franziska, not everyone has ulterior motives just because you do?


	7. Insufferable

Well guys, sorry it took so long! I was gone for a week. But here it is! Hope it was worth the wait. The chapter after this one, stuff starts happening!

* * *

**Insufferable**

She hadn't even bothered to read it. The advanced copy of _Franzy's Whippity Whip Trip_ that Franziska had demanded from the publisher had been in her hands only for the ride to the University, where she had slammed it on the dean's desk along with her application.

Now all that was left was to wait. They'd had enough time to review her application. And the book was only a few pages, with pictures no less! So as she sat at her office desk, impatiently eyeing the recently installed replacement phone, Franziska's only solace was that soon they'd be calling to tell her how glorious she was, and how honored they'd be to have her. _That_ would put Miles Edgeworth in his place! Her perfect plan had perfectly come together.

Franziska glanced at the clock, her eyes thinning in irritation. What was taking them so long? It was nearly lunch time, and the last thing she needed was that fool trouncing in here and interrupting her call! Granted, she hadn't heard from him since that day she had assaulted him in his own rat-hole of a home, but then again, she had been making a point of leaving her office around lunch hour; just in case. Not that she'd ever caught sight of him coming or going from the office. Even he could not be so foolish as to seek her out after she had shot him down as she had!

But for the University to keep her waiting this long was just outrageous! She didn't care _how_ prestigious they were, she was Franziska von Karma!

As if sensing her thoughts, the phone suddenly sounded off with a high, tremulous ring. With great control, Franziska pointedly waited until the third ring to answer. She was very busy, after all. "This is von Karma." Concise, to the point, and yet still a complete sentence. Perfect.

"Hello, this is Ivy University calling for Prosecutor Franziska von Karma? We received your guest speaker's application…"

"I know who you are! Now stop wasting my time. When do you have me scheduled for?" She interrupted curtly.

"Y-yes, about that!" The fool on the other end sputtered anxiously. She didn't like his tone one bit. "I'm s-sorry to inform you that your application, while quite impressive, has been rejected…"

At the man's pause, Franziska heard nothing but the sound of her own blood roaring in her ears. She could scarcely make it out when the man on the other line began to speak again.

"Ah, you see, we here at Ivy U stress character above all else! We simply cannot promote someone who so regularly uses _violence,_ especially not in the court room! I'm sorry, but… out of my hands… unethical… liability… _insufferable_…"

The rest of the man's words fizzled out and dissolved into silence, and from that silence rose a quiet but piercing ring, growing louder and louder until it became painful. Franziska dropped the receiver and threw her hands over her ears, trying to drown out the noise, only to find it amplified in her own skull. With a cry of unrestrained fury and frustration, Franziska ripped the phone from its socket and sent it hurling into the opposite wall. The plaster gave way, leaving the phone lodged in the wall, before its own weight gave way and it fell to the floor with a satisfying plastic crunch.

But no… it wasn't enough… Not NEARLY enough!

Without thinking, Franziska swept her arm along the bookshelf behind her, sending rows and rows of books toppling unceremoniously to the floor, their pages folded and spines bent beyond treatment. Still not enough… how DARE they?! Didn't they know who she was? She was FRANZISKA VON KARMA! No one denied her. NO ONE! They should be HONORED! They should be tripping over each other to prostrate themselves before her, begging and thanking her for being so generous as to offer them even a moment of her time!

FOOLS! The lot of them!

Franziska tore down her office blinds, threw her wastebasket back at her desk, screaming in rage. Still not enough! NOT ENOUGH! They were all FOOLS! EVERYONE! This whole OFFICE was filled with FOOLISHLY FOOLISH FOOLS!

The metal lamp stand… it looked so peaceful where it stood, shimmering in the sunlight, _mocking_ her! Oh, she'd show it. She'd show them ALL! Franziska lunged at the lamp, poised to rip it straight out of the socket, mindless of the risk of electrocution. What did she care?! She had FAILED! Perfection couldn't fail! And what purpose did she have to live if she wasn't PERFECT?! That mocking voice resounding through her mind, _YOU FAILED! YOU WORTHLESS, INSUFFERABLE FOO_—

"Franzy, STOP!" A strong, solid arm gripped her waist, pulling her back, as it's twin wretched the lamp from her grasp and sent it crashing to the floor. The crisp shattering of glass and a zipping flash of light told her that the bulb had broken, but she was unharmed.

Franziska stared at the small splash of charred black on her carpet where the bulb had erupted. That could have been her… Would anyone have cared if it had been? She was completely and utterly insufferable. No one could stand her. She couldn't even stand herself…

"What are you thinking?! Are you NUTS?!" She suddenly snapped out of her musings, registering the presence of hands on her shoulders, shaking her, albeit gently. "You could've been hurt real bad! I should know, I've been elecramocuted before! I still have burn marks in a place I can't mention to a lady, and my hair was standing up for a week! More than usual!"

Franziska could only stare, straining to process what was happening. It was the King of Fools himself. He had shown up after all. But why? Why would he even bother? After how horrible, how _insufferable_ she had been. How she _always_ was. The fool… the foolishly foolish…

Tears sprung in her eyes before she could prevent them. Only a complete idiot would come for her like this, or someone with a fondness for punishment. Couldn't he see how unbearable she was? Was he _that_ moronic?

"Franzy…" his voice softened, losing its panicked edge as he brought his hands up to frame her face, wiping the tears away with his thumbs before they could leave stains down her perfect porcelain cheeks. "Hey, it's okay, babe. It's okay. No one got hurt."

She cringed, turning her face away, flushing in utter humiliation. How could she show weakness like this? Was she no more than a simpering child, on top of everything else? She fought to stem the flow of tears, to no avail. The more she fought it, the harder they came, and she was forced to bite down on her bottom lip to prevent herself from making any sound that would betray her. She could feel his eyes on her, searching for comprehension. If he pointed out her shame, even with good intentions, she would throw him out. She'd make sure he never set foot in this office again!

Larry moved away, keeping watch on her from over his shoulder as he made his way over to the window. "You know, it's pretty stuffy in here… allergies… if someone's eyes started to water, it probably would be 'cause of that, not crying, right?" Franziska peeked up at him, dreading whatever crazy scheme he was up to now. He opened the window, pausing to take a deep breath of fresh air, before turning back to her with an encouraging smile.

He was giving her a way out. An excuse, so she wouldn't have to admit the truth, not even to herself. An excuse so she wouldn't be ashamed to cry.

"F…fool…" A moist hiccup escaped her throat. She brought a hand to her chest, as if that would somehow reverse the effect. Too late.

Larry approached her, slowly, and gently wrapped one arms around her waist, his other hand reaching behind her head to guide her chin to his shoulder. He did not restrain her, she could have easily moved out of his hold. And yet somehow, she felt firmly set in place, like a puzzle piece inserted into its proper position. She fit him, securely, so that if her knees gave out, she knew she'd still be held up. She'd never felt anything like it, this feeling of being supported, of having solid ground beneath her feet to land on if she fell…

"I… hate you…" it was a struggle not to sob. She had already indulged herself in dampened eyes. She would not allow herself to cry out. She simply would _not_. "It's your fault… somehow… your terrible book… must be the reason… fool…" Even as she continued to insult him, she shifted to bury her face in his shoulder, her hands gripping the front of his shirt with enough force to tear it from his lanky frame. She did not make a sound, but simply shuddered against him, fighting off wave after wave of sobs she would sooner die than release.

For his part, Larry did nothing to challenge her strange refusal to let herself cry. He held her steady with his arm around her waist, and gingerly caressed her back with his other hand, accepting, waiting for a cue from her before he made a move.

"You're ok." Larry murmured against her hair, resisting the overwhelming urge to make a pass. Even he knew better than to try to pull the moves on a girl when she was in such a state. "Tase—I mean macaroni..." He coughed lightly, trying to cover his obvious blunder, and the assumption it implied. "They're just things. They don't remember and they can't hurt you." Franziska stiffened at his words. Had he said something wrong? Okay, time to make it all a big joke and forget about it! "We can always cook the macaroni… and it's tasty!" Nice save!

Franziska was silent, her trembling body against his serving as the only reminder she was still even there. Larry exhaled slowly, continuing his rhythmic caress of her back. She seemed to be calming down. That was good, at least. He had no idea why she had been so upset in the first place, but it really made him nervous seeing her lose it like that. Yeah, he had seen her mad, but he'd never seen her lose her control like that. Something must've really hurt her. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but he had enough experience with overly-emotional women to know that they did not like having their privacy invaded. She'd either flip out and get angry, or she'd cry harder. Still, it was really important to him that she knew she didn't have to keep this all to herself. He knew better than anyone how hard it was to have no one take your struggles seriously.

"You know, Franzy, if you ever feel... uh, like you need to talk to me about Macaroni or whatever… I'd appreciate it. I'm pretty sensitive, ya know? I could use the help." Franziska bristled. Just what was the fool trying to pull?

"Why…?" She pulled back, her grip on his shirt tightening further, ready to throw the fool out the window should the need call for it.

"Why? Ah, well, I've always been a kinda sensitive guy. In-touch with my feminine side. Or, well, more like feminine insides always touch me…" Her quirked a brow suggestively, his voice lowering to what Larry thought was a sexy growl, but which came out more like a teenager trying too hard.

"No!" Without releasing his shirt, Franziska slammed her hand against his chest, knocking the air clean out of his lungs. "Why are you doing this?! Foolish fool! Everything about you disgusts me to the core! I would sooner jump out that window than give you the time of day! I would sooner shove _you_ out that window!"

"Geez, Franzy," Larry said, rubbing the back of his head in anxiety, "that's harsh!"

"Yes, it is! And I've done worse! You must have heard stories, aren't you a friend of Phoenix Wright?! I _whip_ people!" Larry nodded nonchalantly. The nerve! She slammed his chest again in aggravation. "Then _why_ are you here?!"

"Franzy…" she didn't really mean that. How could she not know? He'd made it pretty clear from the first time they met. "I like you, babe. A lot. You're smart, you're tough, and you're really, _really_ hot! Smokin'!" He gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up of approval, looking every bit the fool he was.

Franziska backed away. So that was it, was it? To think he'd have a chance with a von Karma! The fool was clearly beyond delusional, he was _brain-dead_! With a sharp crack of the whip, Franziska escorted the fool to the exit.

"And don't come back without an appointment!" she shrieked into his face, whipping him one last time for good measure before slamming the door in his dumb, stupid, fool's face.

The door shut, locked, and bolted tight behind her, Franziska surveyed the damage. Her office was in shambles. She had completely lost control! Clenching her fists until the leather of her gloves squeaked in protest, Franziska mentally berated her weakness.

A soft breeze from the window broke her train of thought, ruffling her hair a bit and giving her a breath of fresh air.

It was going to be alright.

* * *

**Luv2Game:** Hey! Thanks so much for your reviews. Yes, I always thought of von Karma as more of a mind game sort of person. But the thought occured to a friend of mine, and when looking at Franziska's flinching court-room sprite, the way she grabs herself and backs up almost looks like a child trying to move away from a blow. It was just a thought for this fic, but I definitely see your point! Thanks for the critique!

Hope you guys are still with me!


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